


Hades doth follow Him

by Cannabis



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Ancient Greece, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Cock Tease, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Mild Smut, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, War, Wet Dream
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23392186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cannabis/pseuds/Cannabis
Summary: An attack at sea leaves Hannibal stranded in a war-torn vessel. Will, at home in Athens, receives the warning and makes way to chase down his beloved. But there are enemies in the water churning up death from beneath the waves. (working series)
Relationships: Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 7
Kudos: 12





	1. Three Course

_There was a man, who often in speech curled a lip at the tired desires of the ones around him. Now his heart hammered in his chest from desire, an adrenal reaction to the death that rose and fell so near to him. Those same lips were dry and cracked from thirst. His hands wrung taut to the single mast at his back. He gripped his fists, knuckles red and chaffed from a tavern fight just two moons before. A captain formerly, and a captive now; to such an act of baseless revenge. He was lifted from a veil of the white-sea and here he drifted. Alone now under the moon, on the water now blanketed by darkness he felt deprived from even the easiest breath that lifted his aching chest. That water rose around him endlessly. The drift had carried him here, and he dared not break free to look over the edge of the trireme now or he too would fall, victim, as the others around him had. His last man had leaned, almost in a doze, to that sweet siren song…_

\------

Will had risen early, something that was not common for a man in his position. With a tired and drawn stretch, he lumbered to his feet and onward into the sunlight that drifted between the curtains fronting the windows. He settled into a warm bath, a servant passing silently behind him. The man did not idle but tarried on to complete other duties. Will’s head pounded a bit after last night’s symposium, and he knew he better relieve some of the aches before he attended to his more important callings this evening. He settled his head between his palms and with an even groan threw the warm water through his brown hair shaking the water out of the dampened curls. He managed to pull himself from the water, rather reluctantly, and moved across the hall to the terrace. He draped his robes on lazily as he looked over the sprawling city he now called home. Athens, in all its glory.

Below, the hardened soldiers stood guard at the entry to the pavilion, and just beyond that, children played without repose in the square, sticks, earthenware lids, and piles of mud in hand. His gaze drifted across the plain roofs, the peasant-folk dimmed in comparison to his fleet that rose between him and the horizon. It was these that had brought him to his lover’s door. The ablest fleet, both trireme, and bireme built by his mastered hand of both woodwork and engineering craft. He had developed such a rapport with the military and its gaudy regime, but it had done well for him. From here to the Red Sea, his fleet swung freely, spearing the ocean with their might, as he too now could venture. Free as the wind that drew the sail taut, and thrummed against the oceans wave with every stroke of the oars. He was now more a man of cause. Then without missing a beat, a happy but careful tone rose from the once comforting silence behind him. It was at the doorway, cautious to enter the threshold.

“Good morning, Will.”

“What now, Jim?” Will replied in a pithy tone. “Did you not have your fair share of the evening’s proclivities?” A humble chuckle came in reply.

“Good to see you awake as well. I do thank you for your hospitality.” Jim was never condescending, knowing still at most times it was Hannibal that had guided the hand of the party at most and Will left himself to agreeing to what was necessary only by a teasing goad here and there. The final remnant of conversation came next. “However, I happened upon a visitor roaming your entry corridors. The guards let him by without reproach.” Before Will had completed turned around he heard the clangor of a warrior’s bulk. Smartly dressed from head to toe stood his former commander and the head of the Grecian militia. 

“Will Graham. Duty calls you now.” The baritone trammeled into Will’s skull, drawing forth the memories he had graciously discarded from his mind many years ago. A time before even Hannibal had begun to court him.

“Jack. It’s been years. What need do you have of me?” Will tightened the knot at his hip, a ghosted memory guiding his subconscious to reach for a sword that no longer gripped at his waist. “I make ships now, nor do I command any platoon of hoplites.”

“Your skills are being put to good use, yes. I don’t deny the shield that surrounds you better than a phalanx.” Jack dropped his helmet onto the nearest corner table with an even thud. “But this instant calls for the Will that desire does not crawl from so hastily.”  
“What is it, Jack? You did not come to barter with me. Or is it a test of my business skills you wish to see applied?” Will grew irritable beneath his voice, red to the skin, even with the blankest of tones that he could muster. There were only two men in the world that could cause him to fluster. He knew Jack would see that warmth if he ventured closer.

“Hannibal.” Jack started. He let the name hang as he crossed to join Will on the terrace. His dark eyes drifted between Will’s annoyed gaze and with his own mastered sense he leaned toward Will without arrogance. “He’s gone.” Jack did not lean away immediately, watching the subtle switch of Will’s gambler’s gaze.

“That cannot be. He left only three nights past on campaign.” Will spoke first, then followed the darkness that crawled from Jack’s tone. “You do not lie, but you are not speaking the entire truth. What became of him? His ship?” The edge of Jack’s mouth rose for he knew Will would not fall for a trick or play on words. He had gauged too long with his man now. He settled back a half step from Will and looked out over Athens.

“This view will remain in your memory for some time.” With a soft sigh, Jack faced Will directly. He wouldn’t parse the next sentence with a coy remark. “He set out for Phenicus after a symposium last night at the Cape of Sounion, but he did not know he was followed. This morning, traces of his ship were found on our riverbanks near Pireas, burned to the core. The bodies of his men, the few that fell early on, have been washing up since early morning. I did not wish to wake you after last night’s party,” Jack had begun to trail with another footnote. “That is how it was identified to be," A patient gesture of his hand, "...as we have spoken.” With that, Will cut off his words.

“You only chose to speak so late of it to make me desperate in my choosing.” Will caught his voice before it sprung into venom. He decided on an even whisper that he drew close between his teeth. “We leave immediately.” The decision had already been made.  
Will donned a trader’s gear, even as Jack had lain eyes on his finely polished armor in a room they happened by.  
“If it comes to it, I will return for it. I always found it far harder to move with such weight.” Will had countered Jack’s gaze with a passive retort. Will did not wish to mix himself in that guise ever again.

“You were always skilled with spear and bow.” Jack replied, bemused. An almost giddy look was in his eyes when he spoke. He did not raise a voice toward Will’s lack of interest in war politics. The parlay seemed more to amuse him. Instead, he ushered Will into the carriage at the entrance of the home, a glorious fountain spewing its luster into the sky, cooling the heat from their skin as they passed, if only for a moment. As they rode, Will watched behind for only a moment. He understood his choice would not let him return before night’s end. Or the one after that.

At the shipyard, Will doused his skin with a towel, and a reasonable barricade to cover the shock he felt at seeing the parts of the ship that remained. The _Achilles_ once a gaunt and beautifully crafted beast, now a shell-shocked remnant of a destructive wave of death. In less than three days his lover, Hannibal, had left behind a broken shell, wreckage that Will could barely gather a thought to how it had gotten back to the land without sinking. The mainsail leaned at such an angle now after the fire had been doused, and the second mast was missing entirely from it. Men scurried about gathering what they could to avoid damage to their own product if more were to fall free, inviting disaster as it was.

“I was lead to believe that the ship had sunk. How it got here is another matter entirely. Is my expertise needed to repair this-? You wouldn’t mock me with that.” Will grabbed a travel bag from the carriage. “I will guide you to my ship. I do not wish to give chase in a loaded military vessel for surely that is the next question you wish to ask of me.” A different look drifted across Jack’s face.

“Were you prepared for this?” He asked with interest.

“With Hannibal, I am often prepared for anything.” Will turned his head and yelled a short command to several men waiting near the dock. They turned and waved, grabbing bags of their own, eagerly trotting toward a ship with a striking similarity to the wreckage within range of a plethron.

“We shall follow closely behind you then.” Jack followed, the men with him did not stray from the carriage.

“If that is your wish. But if you would be so kind, my wish is to have my distance.”

“So it will be.” Jack smiled for the first time since they had greeted so warmly that morning. “Is this?”

“Yes. _Achilles’_ brother-ship.” Will’s tenderness toward his work was evident as he traced his eyes the length of the ship. “ _Patroclus._ ” This creation of Will’s, a triaconter was a fearsome faced beast, even with the incredible difference in oarsmen. The design, under a quarter of the trireme, called only for thirty men, fifteen at each side, to even the oar banks. The last man, Will himself, as the unit commander to guide as necessary from dangers, or in such a case as this, to barrel straight towards them. Along with his additional crewmen, stocked provisions, and weapons to cargo, Will had saddled Jack to find familiar warriors and archers, a list of names for Jack to add to his own crews.

“Do you wish to leave without a heading?” Jack called after Will who walked evenly up the gangway. Sealegs had not left him.

“Those are Persian and Ionian arrows that pepper the _Achilles_ hull, Jack. Of what little has not burned away. News travels quickly through the mighty roads of Athens. I have little doubt that the battle was won by pirate trickery. This was no accident, as evidence explains.” Will looked back one last time before entering his skiff. “I have no time to wait for an escort.” He almost bid Jack follow him only as he reached the horizon, but knew even that request was impossible to Jack’s eagerness to hunt.

“You’ll bait them out then,” Jack muttered softly. Such a trick was something that Will would not be comfortable with without advising his own crew of such a thing. Disguised, as he would be, as a merchant's vessel, he would no doubt be an ideal target.


	2. The Lustering Tide

Will could feel it in the tide. The red heat of battle that was calling for him, that he refused to adapt to until it was necessary. The fear of flight had left him the moment the sail hit the clean wind. However the desire to run did not leave him completely, as even an untrained eye could see the vessel that trailed after him, slow and steady, even as a wary comrade. He had ridden a day now, with haste at times, and idling almost completely at others. As disguises go, he had to work swiftly, yet manically to fool any who watched beyond Jack’s careful gaze. Finally, at the behest of his second in command he retired to bed, the undulation of the sea sending him into a peaceful slumber, even under the circumstance.

Hannibal spoke to him now in soft tones. A murmur that traveled at the edge of his ear from behind and sent heat down his spine. He could feel the hardness pressed against his thighs and knew that he was not the only one wanting. A hand sought down his waist and curled around his own waking erection. Will recognized the smells of their home, perfumed but not richly invading the senses. The soft curvature of the blankets following his knees, slipping almost beneath his waist, as he bent; kneading back and forth between Hannibal’s hips and kneading fingers. He reached behind to fist a handful of hair as he turned to chase his lover’s mouth. A quick slide of his own hand lead him to the warm cock behind his back, wet to his greeting.

“Already?” Will smiled against his lover’s chin, who had raised his head to playfully dodge an extra peck to tease.

“Heady jokes won’t make it come sooner, Will.” Hannibal retorted without missing a beat. Will waved his wrist to a stiffened tug and felt Hannibal tremble with delight.

“Who says that is what I wish?” Will turned to face him and slid his own wetness against Hannibal’s. “I would certainly like to make you a mess before you have breakfast.”

“That is a desire we both share, then.” Hannibal was pleased to glide his palm down to greet them both beneath the sheets. After a few even pulls that drew a soft gasp from Will’s mouth, Hannibal threw the sheet away and rolled his tongue down Will’s chest and stomach. He swiftly tucked Will’s cock into his mouth which lead to a quaking breath. It took only a few more moments for Hannibal to draw forth the pulse that traced the orgasm to his throat. Will welcomed it, streaming a moan into the bed. Before he could take Hannibal for himself, he felt a sharp tug at something inside him, and when he looked again, Hannibal was gone.

“Hannibal?” He called out, but there came no reply.

A lurching motion threw against the floor from his cot and he landed with a curse on his shoulder. He sat up to see a storm spraying against the mast and all her splendor. The men were already working to fasten her to safety, and Will realized his own wetness was not from the storm that now hunted them. With a quick hand, he palmed a towel, cleaned, then ran from the shelter to assist his men.

\------

“They still do not come for him.” The ragged voice spoke to another, yelling over the rain that pelted against their skin. The other, tall, well-formed and weather-beaten did not speak. “I saw we kill and be done with it.” A hand up. It was not a request for silence. The man stepped forward to the mast and leaned close to Hannibal without remorse. His eyes were black with death, a red-blooded warrior to the core. Hannibal gave no inclination to speak, nor did he show fear. This was just another man, after all. He studied the figure, then without interest, eyed the scar that lined the upper cleft of the man’s lip it traced unevenly up to the man’s eye that gave off a faint glow. Half-blind, the moon glinted off the dead pupil that sought to tear through his demeanor. He held himself firmly still, nary a blink, even as the rain begged him to shiver against the cold.

“They will come.” The man finally spoke. There was a careful presentation to the words and he barely moved his mouth to make the sounds. An almost hissing tone seemed to linger in his words. “The trail will bring them to us.”

“Am I to be a sacrifice?” Hannibal finally spoke, letting the laughter show in his eyes and voice. “You needn’t go so far to make such a scene. Kill me and be done with it. My body will surely bring you the meat that you seek.” 

“Hannibal. The Cannibal.” A name spoken meant to rile his instincts from him. ”I’ve heard of your campaigns. The Red Sea was soaked with the blood of your victories. I believed you to be a god, but I see you now are just a man. But I.” The man took a step back and raised his arms. “Am no man.” He stood to his full height, towering over Hannibal’s hunched posture, as tied to the mast. Hannibal did not lift his head to follow the man’s eyes but his gaze did trail to chase the hands, to feel for that threat that would eventually follow through. For the commander would not be tamed if he believed himself to be a god. “They will be the sacrifices for the Great Red Dragon.”

The dragon adorned himself with wings made of the flesh of those he had conquered. Hannibal recognized the adornment of his own men within the meshwork as lighting burst between the seams. He felt his blood boil but retained a composure that would chill even the deepest ocean. It mattered not if the storm washed away the death of the evening before. For death had not finished here.

\------

The storm lasted until midday, the men, now exhausted by their efforts took turns to rest and eat. Will did not ask for an apology for not being woken sooner. That seemed to follow him as of late. Alas, a flash storm wasn’t uncommon, and there seemed to be no god on their side until the storm had disappeared without a trace.

“Will!” A voice called out from the cargo hold. “We’ve got a stowaway.” Being a merchant's vessel, Will had expected it at some point, but this had to be the most convenient of timing.

“Alright, I get it. Let go already. Next time I’ll ask.” The familiar tone brought some comfort to Will’s imaginings.

“Beverly. Are you going through the provisions or taking a nap on the grains again?” Will laughed softly.

“You got me. But neither. I saw you rush for the ship this morning from my place. I just beat you to the punch before you took off.” She shrugged a quiver up her arm. “You know I’m the best shot you got at getting back at these guys before they can sneak up on you.”

“You’re right. Welcome aboard.” Will was about to turn back to the mast but looked back to add. “Next time, you don’t have to sneak. Or you’ll summon more of the sea’s wrath on us.”

“Fair enough,” Beverly smirked a bit then turned to her self-made watch at the front of the ship. “I stocked up on some extra arrows, hope you don’t mind.” She added over the shoulder, and Will just laughed in return. Better to have her aim true, than risk an extra miss. Persian or pirate, he still wasn’t sure what they were up against, but the viciousness of it reminded him of the years of campaigning before he had met Hannibal. The tales, all gruesome in their song and story, of what the man he now cherished was capable of. What he had adapted to and, if any of the veil he now held was punctured, could return to without remorse. They both held each other as ballast against time, to what they cherished and now so little remained.


	3. A Drip of Peace

The water beat tirelessly against the side of the empty craft. Well, nearly empty as it was, besides the drying blood flaking under the midday sun. Two days before fluid sloshed easily with the rise and fall of the sea, staining the wood with uneven ropes of former lives. Voices that had flayed the darkness at night, snatched away by the simmering flames of smoke and mist. Red fire raining at them from both sides. A haze surrounding them that denied better sight and even warfare. Ladders and ties, lashing to the edge of their vessel before they could be properly armed, then pained defeat. Remains scattered like a meal for an already disheveled guest beneath the blue waves. The cracks in the wood stared back at him now. An unwelcome sight that now was also brewing away with the scent of viscera and adding to his memory the bubbles on dying lips, contained whispers, of their last breaths. Hopes went above and drowned below.

“Will,” Hannibal whispered. A containment chamber for his dehydration and lack of proper food. A few days ago, he stood before the might of the Great Red Dragon and had tasted flesh once more. They cooked it in front of him to whet his appetite and turn his fears alight. Only the first intent succeeded. He knew what it was before it had broken between his teeth, as the men surrounding him laughed at first, then grew disturbed and silent at his ferocity. A meal, his own men cooked and skewered for him to taste. The dragon watched Hannibal with a sparkle of interest as he ate it without pause, then drank the iron stink of water they offered before re-snaring him to the mast. At least, his men sustaining him one more time assured his death was not coming for him yet. He was an intention. They did not mock him then, calling him a devil beneath their breath. He offered only a dry laugh in return. Now, he lay as a servant to a greater idea. One the dragon, those dark eyes that followed his motion, decided upon. Yet, he could wait. To bide his patience was an easy task for him, once the angry hunger had been slated for a time.

The men had left now, and he leaned his head back to catch some stray water dripping from the mast above him. The clouds had not yet split to dry away the drink. It hurt to strain his neck around, but the energy wasn’t wasted, the wooden taste did not bother him but he was careful to avoid a splinter. He would survive this, which was his only task at hand. To win over the patience of the men who wished to make him an enticing lure. To win against the dragon. A moment after the sun cut through the clouds and dried the water into vapor, but it would be enough to sustain him.

“Will.” He whispered again. The scratch of his voice not lost on him. It had been years since he was left in such a miserable sense.

“Hannibal?” He could hear the voice, but he knew the other wasn’t here.

“I will return to you.” He had said with sincerity, a palm rising up the back of Will’s shorthairs starting at the base his neck. To taste his warm mouth against his and the scuff of his trimmed beard. He repeated it now, his promise, in preservation for his memory.

His words as spoken, if written in the gray-white sand of a beach, were now washed away like nothingness in the tide.

\------

Will drew a net from the water, muscles straining, a refusal to relinquish the cast. It was a good catch, and he knew they could dry these to last at least a few more days. He was close now, he could feel it. The energy from the men was fully obvious the further they sailed, as focused on the tasks as he was. They knew why they were here, and each man carried a short knife in his boot. They dared not carry full attire openly, for reflection of the sun could give away the truth of their purpose. If a pirate, or man of another nature was wise enough to catch one of their esteemed captains by surprise, there was a chance that they too could be dragged into the siren’s lonely, tireless grasp.

“Will!” Beverly called out from a few paces behind him. She had taken to throwing fish-traps near the stern to leave a short trail for Jack to follow. Also keeping their fellows sustained on more than simple provisions as time passed. It was something Will admired about her, and the traps themselves were no loss to the burden of the trip. Easily made. Easily replaced. He walked to her side, wiping the sweat from his brow to look into the waves where she pointed.

“What do you see?” Will asked mimicking her posture to lay a hand over his eyes, but he did not raise a hand into her line of sight.

“Something is sticking out of the water over there. Near where the grey waves are curling.” Beverly remained still as Will sought it out, the direction eased his eyes to the correct view and he took in the view. A sail bobbed in the waves, mixing its color into the surfs around it almost unperceivable to the untrained eye. They had almost passed it now, but Will was quick on his feet to the pilot’s chair.

“Round to!” Will shouted, and the men scrambled to adjust the mainsail, redirecting both rudder and prow in slow motion. He strained in the turn, the wind jerking at the ropes as each man pulled without recompense to abet Mother Nature herself to their cause.

“Brace on deck!” A man bellowed from the leftmost bridge, and as the others repeated it while catching tight to anything within range a large wave began its joust into their raised oars. A few yells and whoops hammered across the deck, but none were taken into the burst that welcomed their station. Will caught himself laughing a bit despite the dangers the waves ensued. It was a wondrous vigor. “Another! Brace!” The same voice called, but this repetition was not so encapsulating. The men cheered, scattered verses as they finished re-roping along the catwalk, a few of them running to the prow to catch the smaller waves against their bodies, cooling the heat from their tanned skin. Will could hear the joyous stamping of feet from the oarsmen below as they succeeded in their task. A joy that faded from his spirt as they drove closer to their quest’s newest intimation.

“Hove to!” Will called out as they drifted closer. ”Draw the oars, portside!” The men drew in their oars on the left. He waited as they came closer to take in the sight. He didn’t want the oars to cut through what remained if it so happened to be what they looked for. He recognized the broken shift in the waves, tattered and burned in what remained. The wood was dark with stains that Will did not need to guess what they were. He could hear the screams in his mind as the wood cracked free, denying a heady escape for whoever had remained, desperate to flee from the carnage that had ensnared them. They passed once round for he knew it wasn’t wise to come to a full stop.

“He was here,” Will spoke aloud, but only enough to confirm it in his soul. This was not the marks of a warring vessel, but of someone who sought only to maim and destroy. It was not of a man of dignity. Will went below deck as they drifted, gathering paper and ink to scrawl a quick message to Jack. They were most certainly in dangerous waters going forward. He made a final tally, directing to where they had found the mast, and drew a pigeon from a nearby cage. She was plump and cooed gracefully in his hand. Her caretaker had been feeding her well, and Will knew she would reach the target. After releasing her, he drew another and watched it romp across the open sky toward its destination.

“Do you think that we are so close to needing two?” Beverly asked as she stepped up to his left.

“I have little doubt of that. We’re nearing Skyros, but the Aegean Sea will not give out mercy so easily.” Will replied, feeling the warring torment rising in his chest. His heart thudded like mad, and he hoped his desperation did not lead them into a further trial of despair. “Tonight, we start watch. For we could be ambushed at any time in these waters. With luck,” and he attached a tired chuckle within the realm of words, “We shall not meet any grisly ends here.”

“You don’t believe in luck.” Beverly stared at him for a moment, then walked away, to keep eyes out over the prow. She was right and Will knew it.

As the sun began to settle over the horizon behind them Will retreated to his quarters. He was only fairly exhausted physically, but his mind was eager to disappear into rest. And so he did.

He dreamed now of smoke and mist. Of a raging sea that beckoned him beneath the harsh embrace. Around him rowed many cutters, men without faces paddling fiercely toward his ship. As they raced toward him, each boat became enflamed by hot fire, then as if from hades himself, a giant of a man sprung onto the deck. The sound of his landing resounded through the emptiness of the ship, and his blackened face was a scourge to Will’s soul. He reached with filthy fingers toward him as his eyes began to light with streams of fire. Will reached for his sword but found he was as naked as a newborn babe and this creature that had assaulted his craft had already run him through the middle. The hot blood spilled across his stomach as the spear was pulled free, then downward, to soak his thighs, knees, and feet. He slipped in his own blood and fell to the earth. A piercing laugh echoing in a white noise inside his ears and he tasted dust. He felt no pain as the dust around him moved. Wisped by a soft wind, it turned into a sea of skeletons that grappled to pull him beneath their warping mass. He struggled to break free, but only tumbled further into the dark.

Then he awoke with scattered breath, to nothing. The sea was calm.


	4. New Edge

_His mind was drifting now. Barely awake. They hadn't come by since their last encounter and now he found himself sensing a hush in the air. Something, or someone, was coming. And they, The Great Red Dragon and his men were preparing for it. Even the waters around them didn't even seem to bring a sound to his tired thoughts._

_A whistling._

_Something hurtled through the air past his right and crashed into another boat, what followed was the crackling sound made of plank and flesh. Screams ripped into the air as the voices carried with them the stress of life itself in scattered clangs of steel._

_He lifted his eyes to see a fearsome red-bellied beast scrawled into the wooden prow rushing his meager footing. The wood mast at his back scrapped into his flesh as he struggled against the ties around his wrists. Those fiery eyes stared back into his, soulless and hungry to take him from his place. Mounted to her sides, atop an expanded bridge, a walkway was built for men to lift mounds of combustibles into a wildly rigged siege machine. The men there moved swift like a well-tuned engine, eager to loosen their wares upon the counterparts they now laid waste too. As she sped past him toward the voices screaming to reach him, he felt the rudder crash deep into the wood near the prow of his own beast. This wreckage they had shackled him to before sending his own Achilles adrift, back away to the closest shores he now feared he may not see again. Back toward the one who had made him a better man. A better soul._

\------

"Watch the wreckage!" Will yelled as another mound of fire screamed past their trireme. The men worked tirelessly below to match the rhythm that Will steered too. The ship responded easily to his command, his technique had not faltered since the days afore he had left the battles behind to seize upon the creation of the machines instead. They moved swiftly past a dying bireme, water trudging into her prow and to his horror, he spotted a lone figure. Clutched tight to the mast like a forgotten spirit. But he had no time to enter the ship's range and board. The Red-eyed boat had missed them in a dash to spear them in two. These men who hungered now for their death had struck in the night. Small boats had arrived at the oar banks and had begun their assault below but not before Will was able to catch a second squad slithering up the prow as well. After slaying the intruders he heard the screams below and raced to end them. He found the watchmen there had been killed first. Leaned he was, at an angle to look as if he still lived. And now, in the early morning light, fire streaked through the sky to burn away their mast. Their men. And their will to survive such a bump in the night. They had barely slept fleeing such a beast as the sun rose over the horizon. He realized they were playing with their meal after the blaze flew past the mast like a warning shot. He couldn't wait for Jack to catch up.

As the other boat circled, Will turned his eyes to the helmsman's station and met the gaze of a creature, not unlike a man he had once tamed to frolic in boredom with even the lessers of men. But that man who chased him now did not seek to be tamed. His body stood taut as a bow and ready to fire again at the meal he sought to devour. Only destruction awaited from that ship and his men salivated for it. The other ship, large as it was, took him broadside in less than a moment and Will braced for impact. It was all he could do not to scream before the wood splintered away and sent the salted waves crashing against into the now gaping wound of the _Patroclus'_ side. The wail below of the men forced aside into their graves went silent as rushing waves and screams of debauched men boarding Will's ship erased them. It was then, as Will stumbled back to his feet, that he saw how close they were to the wreckage. Beverly, who had run shy of arrows was behind the man they had searched for, wrenching hard at the ropes that held him firm. But he could watch no longer, as he drew a sword from his hip to block a blow to his head from a charging enemy. The man was heavy-hitting, an endless assault of carnal rage beat up his arm as he defended the blows. When he found his opening, he did not hesitate, slipping the blade cleanly through the man's ribs, cutting the breath from his terrible song. Will stole the shield from the man's arm and pulled his blade, but it was caught in bone. He chose the blade from the dead man as well and turned to the next man who dared arrest his gaze.

Hannibal.

Will dared not speak his name aloud, for fear of drawing attention to Beverly's attempts to free him. This was no Persian assault. It was a matter of fact to Will long before the ship had come into view. But this man who attacked them was not a pirate or pillager either. A marauder with an endless desire to kill. As Will lay another man into the embrace of the waves, heavy footfalls caught his attention to his left and instinct sprung his sword and shield around to defend. The iron that met his shield splintered it and a second blow wrenched it from his arm as he staggered back, he had been unprepared for the hit. His arm was certainly fractured, if not broken, and he grit his teeth in pain. He mustn't fall so early in the defense. He looked to meet his challenger's gaze and a thousand voices screamed in his head but the loudest voice spoke _'death_.'

"The shipbuilder." A gruff voice scattered out from the broken lips. "I've seen you in Athens when I stalked your weary streets." The dark face seemed to smirk for a moment before he spun a second sword from his belt, swinging them almost playfully in his hands at Will's failure to move. To try and read him. A taunt.

"What?" Will spoke, his voice dry with thirst that only battle can draw from. He wished to stall for time, catch a moment, even a second to earn a rest but words could not reach his tongue.

"I think you'll make a fine sacrifice." There was not another wasted motion and the blows rained down upon Will's blade, he was scarcely blocking them with the remains of his strength and it was all he could do to not bend a knee and be beaten into the planks at his feet. Will heard himself growling back as a cornered dog does, and blindly threw a blow into the left arm of his challenger, felt it split flesh, but the blows did not waver. Only the tune changed. A falter drew a stripe to his cheek, and a kick to his knee that threw him against the side of the boat. He gasped for air as two swords came rushing down to slice into his chest and split open his ribs and displace his bowels, but the swords met metal, the weight of it sending hot sparks against Will's neck just short of the collarbone. The shadow cast over him was of two men. Only one let out a fearsome laugh. "You aren't dead yet?"

"My will is stronger than yours," Hannibal spoke with a rasp, a voice that had been left unused and teased away at by the salty air. Will watched as their enemy was shoved back a few paces and Hannibal settled onto the equal footing with an almost bored step. "I've been looking forward to killing the man who slaughtered my guard and fed them to me. Even if it was such a clever trick."

"And now?" The man seemed more than amused at such a lofty challenge in words. He favored his right hand here and it did not go unnoticed by a soft tilt of Hannibal’s gaze.

"And now," Hannibal ran a finger down the blade as if remembering a distant dream. "I get to slay a Dragon." He rushed in with a fervor of a starving man, seeking for grains in sand and sawdust. Will would not have him face this beast alone, but he had no weapon to-

"Here," Beverly jumped up beside him and tossed him her sword. "I am better dual-wielding!" She added as she drew two daggers from her woven boots and drove them into the neck of the nearest intruder. Her movements were lithe as she scattered them like roaches beneath her quickened hands. She did not delight in her attentions but her fluidity drew a wave of fear against the few who saw her kills fall heavy to the ground.

Will gripped the sword in his right hand and rushed in with a short yell to meet with Hannibal's blade. Their fervor sent the Dragon tumbling back a pace but he drew back in, teasing them apart with his massive blows. Twice he sliced into Will’s left arm and let out a snarl of fervent delight as the red spatter was tossed onto his skin. These motions only added to Hannibal’s blows, traded with equal part adrenaline and even lust for the death he chased for the man before him.

Will caught a blow into the Dragon’s chin with the end of the sword and as the man snapped his head back, Hannibal drove his sword deep into the right arm of the beast. As he followed through, jerking at the handle to free it, the look of surprise was bewildering only for a second as the tensed bicep clenched to the blade and disallowed his intent.

“Good. Good!” The Dragon bellowed as he threw a hardened fist into Hannibal’s left cheekbone and watched him tumble onto the floorboards, energy spent. He raised his hand to catch Will’s blade in his left hand, and Will felt an iron plate react from the palm. “You too.” The Dragon seemed to purr as he swept Will off his feet with a swipe of his left leg. He dragged Hannibal’s sword from his arm and dropped it onto the deck as Will checked for breathing from his fallen man, and was contented for only a moment. The man had walked away, raised a torch from its post and pressed it into the skin that had been sliced away and not even a grunt of pain came from his throat. It was an even cut and the wound closed quickly. The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

A sounding of drums chased into the din and within a breath, the enemy had gone. It had to be Jack.

“Hannibal.” Will finally spoke aloud, teasing the matted hair from his lover’s sweaty complexion. He breathed heavily now, the adrenaline chasing away and the pain of his wounds creeping up after them. Hannibal looked weaker, obviously unfed and left for dead, but no less the man that Will had dined with and slept upon some days before. When he raised his head to check his men, looking doubtfully for the enemy, he saw they were indeed alone again. Albeit, Jack’s warring vessel had drawn within bow and arrow range now.

Alas, Will knew the feeling that crept from the deepest part of his desire to be free. They could not yet return home.


	5. Shove Anger Aside

_Was it a dream? No, it was a nightmare that was everlasting. They had begun to build a trap of their own when Jack arrived, but it was not to their advantage in the least. The Dragon had cased their crew, even Jack’s, and returned a second crew to distract with an eager vengeance as he made his escape._

A horn bellowed out from the waters around them. Before a reaction could be made, arrows rained in on both crews. Many fell, and in the chaos Will and Hannibal had barely managed to arm themselves before the pirates re-emerged to engage their plunder of souls. As both men drew their blades and began to tear through the boarding party, prepared for another tryst with the giant of a man, they realized he wasn’t there. Hannibal spoke first.

“That man is not among them. It’s a distraction!” Hannibal yelled over his shoulder to Will, as he plunged a sword firmly through the ribs of a weakened pirate. Blood slicked his fingers as he wrenched it free and kicked the man overboard.

“He was heading northeast. He must be taking the trail back that we made to get here. Jack needs to know!” Will spun through two pirates, hand over hand, ending them with an easy flourish. He heard Hannibal chuckle.

“It is good to see your sword arms are still at strength.” He playfully spun his blade before swiping away the slash of the next attacker, drawing the sword from the man’s belt and piercing up through his chin for a final end of this second invasion.

“It’s good to see your mouth still works after being left out in the sea to rot.” Will retorted, wiping the blood from both his blades on a dead pirate’s clothes. He looked up as a shadow loomed. Hannibal. There was a slight shiver in his posture, and Will knew it wasn’t cold. “You should eat something, you’re barely standing as is.”

“I have gone longer without eating.” Hannibal gazed back with amusement. “Let us give chase to this detailed devil. I will eat as we go.”

“Jack needs to know.” Will repeated as he stood up. Hannibal sheathed his sword.

“No.” The tone was firm. Resolved. “He does not.”

“You’re using Jack as bait?”

“Do you wish to see the cities burned? Jack will waste precious minutes planning a recourse, we should make haste.” Hannibal closed the gap between them and latched a gentle touch to Will’s shoulder. “He will make exceptional bait. His head is worth far more than mine.” Will wanted to speak against it, but he knew when Hannibal’s focus was tuned, there was other secrets to be had behind the words. Hannibal turned his gaze toward the northeast sea, where the Dragon had gone.

“Is there no alternative?” Will took his cheek and turned his gaze back to his own.

“There is no alternative for him.” Hannibal caressed the back of his hand, then palmed a touch of his own to Will’s cheek. “We go now. He may not expect such a sudden impulse from someone in my position.” He then stepped from Will and began to order the men to their posts. It was time. Will withdrew from the deck to find Beverly, and with a quick hand drew her a note to ferry across the water to Jack.

“It’s best he knows. You’re the only one I can trust to get it there without getting us all in trouble.”

“I can do that. Will you two be fine on your own?” Beverly smirked a bit as Will did.

“Won’t be the first time we’re hunting a pirate. Last time it was a spice trader on the way to Knossos.” He didn’t disguise the fear in his tone well, but he was grateful Beverly didn’t give him an eye of pity or worry.

“I’ll get over there before he tries to get you guys to convene.” Beverly left the room and Will let out a breath as Hannibal came in behind her. He watched her go a moment and gauged her reason for being there in his own mind.

“The men are ready. A bit worn, but the battle aggressed their spirits.” Hannibal stepped over to one of the food storage bins that Will had packed extra, and tore respectively into hardtack and salted meat as he sat down. He leaned his head back and sighed, Will drew some water out and came to him.

“So we take him. Then we go home.” Will sat down and held out the cup. Hannibal finished his first go of food, and gratefully took the water in hand. After swallowing he answered softly, a tone he only used when they were alone.

“Is that what you wish, Will?” He took a careful sip, even as he was desperate to drink quickly and replenish his strength. He eyed the expression of his partner, which often spoke at greater lengths then his words. Will nodded in return.

“I would rather not lose you again. Stay with me.”

“There is a much easier route to take then returning to the city then,” Hannibal laughed as he began to stand up, Will stopped him. Returning a moment later with more to eat.

“Are you suggesting we run away?”

“If it is safety you seek, not material comfort,” Hannibal bit into the meat, massaging his jaw as he chewed to ease away from a lock. Will pondered his words as he too began to eat. To what would they be returning to back at the city? A life of wine and dining, soft beds and food as beckoned. These things tended to fatten lords over time, increase paranoia of loss, and fear of political destruction.

“Is this why you choose to chase this man without telling Jack?” Will watched Hannibal pause only a second in thought. Then Hannibal turned his gaze up from under a thoughtful brow and returned to words.

“I think of it as a gift,” He started then pulled Will closer, “That you are here and that we may end this moment of strife together.” Will met the kiss. Then Hannibal’s hands were under his shirt, relieving him of it, then a greedy motion to claw into his skin, and taste the sweat against his shoulder.

“Do you wish to savor the meal now or after the battle?” Will chuckled as a hand lazily untied his belt. He welcomed the tension between his thighs and the heat of Hannibal’s breath upon his nipple.

“It’s best we savor one another as often as we can. Don’t you agree?” He replied and before Will could finish his own retort, Hannibal had palmed his thigh and pressed his leg away to lean down and taste his freed cock. The words were chased away by a moan, as steady as Hannibal could be with the motion of the sea. The uneven draws and slight scraping of teeth chased pleasure and pain from Will’s throat. He could feel the pulse growing, swifter with each knowing tug, and Hannibal was expertly chasing the rhythm.

“Hannibal,” Will whispered and his voice oozed with lust. It would break so soon with such an environment. Their blood up and feasting upon each other’s company. Hannibal palmed a hand under Will’s balls to play at his perineum, easing the heading forward even faster than Will had anticipated. He came with a soft gasp, kneading into Hannibal’s hair and he took it easily from him, leaving nothing behind as he was tasted to completion. When Hannibal lifted his head, he was sordidly amused.

“It’s good to be missed,” His chuckle was rough. Will hastily returned to Hannibal’s waist, tracing a hand across his erection in return but Hannibal stopped him. “Later. I fear my dehydration will make a lackluster performance for you in return for such a graceful gift.”

“Well, until then, I still wish to touch you,” Will smirked and drew his head to Hannibal’s shoulder. He was a touch hazy minded by such a delightful occurrence. He played his hands around Hannibal as he ate, touching his arms, his chest, tracing his chin and neck. Teasing at his thighs. “Where shall we go then?”

“This vessel is strong enough to venture to beyond the Ionian Sea.”

“What of the men? Their families?” Will did not wish to have these men marked as criminals and desert their families. Uproot their lives for a selfish whimsy. Hannibal was a step ahead.

“We shall lend them the head of The Dragon.”


	6. He Shall Be

They sailed for a day before a familiar mist caught Hannibal’s eye on the horizon.

“Smoke.” He muttered to Will, who stood at his side. He too found the similarities, timing, most convenient. “It’s man-made. This Dragon we seek sets fire to the vessels he conquers, leaving a trap for those who dare follow in its wake.”

“It is how we found you.” Will added. “This time he isn’t a league away.” Hannibal turned his gaze to Will and let out a small grunt of acknowledgement. It wasn’t displeasure but acceptance. As Will returned his gaze his eyes wandered easily to the hollowed visage, the burns, cuts, and grime that he basked in the night before, all were there still in his mind. Scrubbed away only in part.

“I will kill him, Will.” He said bluntly and the words were not as shocking as he thought they may be.

“He killed your men, Hannibal. I would expect you’d want to finish this.”

“The tone you remark with does not bring me to ease now. Would you be so carefree if he had killed me?”

“Of course not. Why would you bring that up now?”

“You’ve been in that city a longtime. To see you in battle again so quickly? I wish to be sure your sword arm hasn’t rusted.” playful but firm. “He knows we are hunting him.” This he uttered in warning, and Will felt his muscles tense as he swallowed back a pang of irritation.

“My proclivities of that life haven’t dragged my sword arm from me, Hannibal. My preferences are my own and more blood on my hands does nothing to guide the building of ships.” Will hastened his pace away from Hannibal; who in turn called out without a hint of mockery.

“…but it is what you prefer.” The words were like daggers now as he followed the escape with a solid few step into Will’s personal space. He was behind him now, and the words tickled at the curve of Will’s ear. “This man will be ready to kill me. He wants to kill you now too, because you have value to me.”

“Do you know him?” Will’s chin made a slight motion to touch at Hannibal’s cheek.

“He was a guest that was unworthy of my house some eons ago.” Hannibal spoke evenly. “His thirst was rugged and dull. His sword arm too quick, un-tempered. He has learned now, but it does not add to his charms.”

“What were his sins in your house?” A curiosity when it came to his lover’s pastimes.

“His challenge came in more than words, in action he took to assassinating some of my servants when he disgraced himself at my dinner table.” A reply that was still unsatisfactory, Will huffed at the meagerness of the response.

“Oh.” His plainness in reply perked Hannibal up to more embellishment but, alas, a dodge nonetheless.

“I knew what you would do.” A small touch of words that Will could follow in his own mind. The fear that drove him away from the seas, the fear that he had at losing Hannibal, the fear that drove him to return. He had weighed his truest desires against one another, and had surpassed a part of himself that he would not have dared without his feelings to guide him.

“I came for you.” Will understood but it do not make it easier. The hardship that would follow with this decision that he was allowing Hannibal to make. To kill and not return this man to Jack for trial. To ease into his taste for battle and keen awareness of the blood sluicing between the layers of wood and sinew that built the body of these ships. It would be endless, as it was before he returned to the city, mooring his fears beneath and within the boats and metal of shipbuilding. Yet even as that thought trickled in, he was content. “So we kill him.” Will pressed his palms against the railing and felt the wetness against his skin. It was a favorable feeling but like all things made by his hands, a stoic indifferent to its master’s feelings.

“And if you still wish to, we can go home. There is an island beyond that mist with an abandoned port. An old haven for pirates and smugglers. I believe that’s where he wishes to meet.” Hannibal added. “You should send your men home.”

“And what of _their_ prize?” Will watched Hannibal’s face, usually controlled, but this time it was content to make a grimace. ‘So they do not lose their heads for rebellion or abandoning their leader to his death?”

“Have them wait here then. We will take him alone. It’s better this way.” Hannibal wrapped a hand around a rope that sturdied a raft. “They stay here. We will moor on the island ourselves. If we do not return by next light, they should return without us.”

“You won’t tell me why you wish to face him alone?” Will glared at the heading, none too eager to face a small legion of raiders. Hannibal’s hands paused a moment, letting only a small ring of rope slip from his grip. “Or how you know he is not on task to take Jack’s head behind us?”

“Will. Will you not trust the instinct of a warrior?” Hannibal did not face him. Not yet.

“Not at the risk of our, no, _all these_ lives in this sense,” Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand to change his palm’s grip but the hand held firm. Hannibal met his eyes slowly. The reply was cooler than the ocean spray against his face.

“Because that is what he wishes to happen.” Hannibal latched a hand to the back of Will’s neck, harsh at first, then more gentle as he continued. “I know you see it, Will. Just as I do.” The soft applause of worship that eased off his tongue caught Will by the chest. Both the Dragon and He, garnished an inkling of praise. Almost an undertone of jealousy from Hannibal, a taste of darker vengeance laced in the tone. Was it a protection inflamed or merely a forecast in place to the invention of their own demise? No, Hannibal did not wish to die so simply; but perhaps with Will, he was prepared too.

“Will. I too left a note before my last departure. To Jack. In case I did not return alive.”

“You did not tell me this, why?”

“It was a matter between us, nothing that would involve a civilian mindset.” It was a soft tenor but spoken in reproach. Will held his tongue and finally released the sigh he had been holding back.

“Alone then.” Will’s eyes darkened even as a smile perked at Hannibal’s lips. “Let us march then to our intended demise.” A half chuckle escaped Hannibal’s lips.

“Do you not believe in our victory?” He teased.

“I do not believe in false pretense.” Will’s voice was flat and wary. They would go, but to find what?

He joined Hannibal’s hands in unlacing the raft from the hip of the trireme, the men too had been wary of the cause of their choice to embark alone but they were loyal. To both Will and Hannibal. The instant the boat hit the water, the men had retracted the sail to remain still until daylight. It would be for the best, even at the risk of slower disembarking, so as not to let a sneaking arrow find them above the mast-line and end all manner of escape.

The water was black beneath them, eager to swallow them up like many others before. Hannibal was tuned into the task at hand, steering the boat with arms that just two days past were tied to the mast of his own dying vessel. There was no hint or shake in the strength as Will watched both Hannibal, behind, and the curving waves ahead of them. It was drawing closer, closer to the mist. As they entered he could feel the chill prickling at his pores, softly biting out of tandem against his skin as the water below began to grow lighter. The mist began to lessen and he withdrew his sword from the sheath at his hip. The smell hit his nostrils full force as they cleared their wave of blindness. On the beach stood a lone man surrounded by corpses. A sacrifice made to the man that chose to be a Dragon, no, in the instance he seemed to swear himself a god. A harsh excited laugh barked out across the wake at them. The charred flesh of the less recently killed burst more harshly through their senses as the man began to pace the water line, aiming at where they sought to moor. Fresh blood laced at the edges of his swords, his only defense the sharpened edge he rushed to bring to their necks.

“You will die here!” He roared, swinging with the left blade, aiming to release Will’s sword arm from his body. Hannibal struck forward, oar in hand and the blade sunk almost completely through the hardened wood, the Dragon using the force of it, spun beneath, and instead aiming to thrust through Will’s chin to split his skull. But Will was faster, dodging his head back and landing a hard kick to the Dragon’s chest, leaving him sprawling backwards, rolling to regain his balance in time to meet Hannibal’s swords. “You will beg me to finish you at the end!”

Hannibal and Will did not reply, but with the reverberating chorus of battle within them. Will, hand over hand to cut against the Dragon’s shoulder, a blow that was blocked and met with a vengeful kick in the lower leg; Hannibal, to block with a slash of flesh at his upper arm that the Dragon carved free from him with a hard laugh. He rose back with twice the force, sword bent in to meet the Dragon’s cheek, splitting a thin line from lip to ear. The cut was not deep, and spurned the blackened hatred more deeply into the blows. Will caught a second swing at his neck and was driven back again by the force of it, to once again watch with a minor palpitation of panic as Hannibal was dropped onto one knee for barely a moment. Hannibal looked to the blow, and instead of blocking it and numbing his grip by the downward force, rolled to the side, and the Dragon’s swords cut into the dirt where he was not seconds before; a blow that would have rent his arms free of their place if a parry had failed.

Will dove in again, cutting into the hip of the man’s beltline, cutting loose an array of trinkets that scattered about the ground, some small yellow and white pearls that dispersed about the beach. He could feel the heat of battle pulsing through him again, a feeling that he had begun to realize he missed, sincerely. Here he was again, fighting with Hannibal, together, as Will brought a severing blow against the Dragon’s upper thigh, and imbedded it there for just an instant too long. The Dragon brought his weapon around with a cruel howl of frenzy.

The sword cut deep into Will’s right side and he felt it seize into his ribs. The impact left him dazed and breathless until he felt the slick warmth soaking through his clothes. He grabbed the arm that sought to wrench it free, letting his own blade find flesh and cut deep, but the wound had dulled his blow. Hannibal voiced a guttural fury, and Will watched the Dragon taste iron as Hannibal’s sword split between his teeth. The face of man slipped half away as his jaw fell slack, the arm that had once aimed to rend Will in two released the blade, the raging form still moved, in form to fight, clutching a swing at Hannibal’s waist as he went tumbling to the ground. Will’s body fell with him, tugged by the edge that gripped at the bone, but not in defense. His vision clouded as his last view was of Hannibal brining his sword to rest against the Dragon’s left wrist, a hand falling loose to the ground below, the wet sand bounced up to meet him, to ease the chaos from his aching breaths.

It was dark then bright, like a thousand small suns blinking in his skull. Will was drifting between pain and sleep. Hannibal’s voice broke through on occasion, blanketed by sweat and heat of infection and a body’s scream at internal chaos.

Again, he drifted into wakefulness with a searing pain in his side, the taste of wood and sweated cloth between his teeth. Hannibal above him, but his eyes were not on his face, focused on the wealth of red that blossomed from his lover’s side. Will could feel bindings on his wrists, firm and that that prevented his escape and pined fits as Hannibal worked. Then, the searing pain hit again and he screamed against the wood between his teeth, sinking again toward blackness. He felt himself rise from the depths again as Hannibal spoke.

“I do not permit you to die.” Hannibal clutched at the wound with bandage and salve. Will could feel even pinches as the wound was being tied closed, a burning sensation less than before now and again, and still fading in and out of consciousness there was a cold chill against his face and neck. It felt like eons until the pain began to ease and the directness of Hannibal’s voice began to grow more rested, even playful.

One evening he woke gleaned in sweat, bare beneath the moonlight. In full view Hannibal’s head lay astride his naked thigh, the cover spread away to cover his other leg to the knee; yet he was drawn back, chasing the tease at his lingering erection.

“Hannibal,” Will managed to speak, his voice graveled with lack of words, naught for screams of pain at what bounded within the dials in his mind. One of his hands, weakly traced down his chest, caressing a nipple as he went, to feel the softness of his lover’s hair.

“Ah, yes. Your voice is still sore, but your cock still works.” Hannibal teased, resting his tongue and mouth to the head, eyeing Will as his brain lulled between agony and desire. He moved his waist to meet with the lips, everything hurt but he was being taunted at the arousal, guiding the pulse for pulse with ever strengthening fruition. A tongue that slipped gracefully from edge to end and back again. The mouth that built pressure by force of skill, taking just the smallest of circles; then biting gently and sucking at the length. The drip didn’t last long, the mixture of pain, and the chill kissing at his sweat, and heat brought forth from the throb of his heartbeat, from the back of his neck, until he emptied into the fullness of Hannibal’s mouth.

Another night and he woke to a rolling stove, fresh smells of brackish meat and spices wafting into his hunger. His mouth watered and he made a soft noise that drew the edge-blurred image of his man standing over the hearth’s attention. A moment after, he tasted a brothy substance, the oils of the meat were mixed with the island’s vegetation, that salty flavor, and a mixture of other seasoning that he couldn’t pinpoint within the pounding in his skull.

“You have to eat, Will. Lest your body give way to the wounds you’ve suffered fever for.” Hannibal cooed as he eased another spoonful to Will’s lips. “Slowly now or you’ll toss it back out like bad drink.” It was a sensual gaze and the softness of his voice told Will he enjoyed the activity they currently shared. He hummed softly in pleasure, the heat against his raw throat was welcomed.

“Where is he?” He managed to ask but Hannibal shushed him.

“Eat. Then rest.” That was all he allowed Will to say that evening. He fell again into restless unconsciousness and time raced by.

When Will’s fever finally broke, he stirred beneath a soft blanket, above, a canopy of freshly gnawed leather and tied strips. He could smell the oils on the leather, hewed wood, and the balm on his wounds almost as one. He called out and was immediately met with a blast of light from the entrance of the dwelling. He lowered his hand that he had raised in defense of his tired eyes, but he recognized the shape between his fingers.

“Good morning, Will.” Hannibal’s tone was a purr. He stepped over, a bucket in hand and sat down beside him. From the vessel he produced a cool, wet cloth which he pressed affectionately to Will’s forehead. “You’ve healed well.”

“Hannibal. Where is he?” Will asked, his tone more firm, and he vaguely remembered asking before but his thoughts still felt rusted closed.

“He is dead.” Hannibal stroked his cheek with the back of his hand. “We, are alive.” A finger laced into the bandages and with a soft motion began to undo the dressing. He produced another wet rag and started to wash the wound as Will watched. Watched for an inkling of something else that Hannibal did not wish to speak.

“How?” Will braced for the detail as Hannibal’s eyes clouded a bit. He knew that a choice was being made between decency and respect in answering. Then he spoke.

“I skewered him. Plucked his devious tongue from his corpse and let him taste the same fate that he offered me and my men.” Hannibal’s tone was even. “As you fell with one of the swords between your ribs, my only thought was to end him quickly. There was no need to draw out a death such as his or revel as he would have in ours.” The final word was meant to be this, Will could feel it. He must have plucked those words so delicately from the ballast of demise he had been the only one to witness.

“Did you bury him?”

“As much as I have others who have fell to me.” Hannibal ran his fingers up Will’s abdomen teasing the soft hairs there into a simmering stiffness, but Will resisted. He caught the traveling sensation in his own fingers and pinned the friendly hand into the bedding beside him. Hannibal met his gaze, mirroring the same obscurity.

“Will that be your truth of it, then?” Will glared into the impassive face before him. A face that he recognized the flesh of, but beneath it, a sensation he wished to stir up again. A touch of personal certainty. A taste of something else.

“That will be the truth of it.” The reply came without remorse. Will released the hand and sought to sit up, Hannibal helped ease him into it without complaint. His body, however, cracked in protest but he ignored it.

“Take me out of this tent.”

“As you like.” Hannibal lifted him gently to his feet and took the majority of his weight onto his own chest and hip. Will paid no mind as the blanket fell free that he was nude. He only wanted to see it for himself, what was outside this prudently manicured enclosure. Carefully, Hannibal led them out. Will blinked through the light and was met with an array of emptiness. The same beach that the Dragon had been felled on…? No, the same island, different beach. The sun was in the wrong place, and the foliage was different. The mist, dissipated. The boat? Gone to leave an empty horizon. “I moved us to the west side of the island, it had the least amount of activity from friend and foe alike.”

“ _Friend_ …and foe?” Will felt anger boil in him. “Did you not wish to leave?” A dry laugh from Hannibal.

“To what end would we return? I killed the man Jack sought to punish. By association so did you. We would face his wroth along with the redundancy of ire and oppressive boredom that comes from amongst the council. You would be thought lesser for your actions here as well, leaving only to return with a single man, and no trophy to flaunt. Even with the influence you have over the ship builder’s guild.”

“You’ve thought a lot about this haven’t you, Hannibal?” Will let his scowl push through his voice, and he felt the anger deepen as Hannibal smiled.

“I thought it more-wise to keep your wounds from overtaking you, yes. While also retaining my own health and shelter to protect us if there was vengeance beyond the grave.” Will pulled himself from Hannibal’s grip, and he stumbled away, legs still too weak to hold him more than a few paces. He fell unprotected into the hot and damp sand, straining to stand again as Hannibal watched with minor amusement. His wounds were firmly bound enough that they did not pull him apart with pain when he hit the ground. How long was he bedridden? A week? Two?

“Why are you laughing? You’ve upended everything, you’ve-,” Will was caught off guard by Hannibal’s quick movement, a hand that captured his chin and forced his gaze to a mere breadth from his lover’s nose. He had not heard him walk over.

“…You’ve ruined everything? You’ve taken a life of leisure and labor from me? Has your respect for me truly diminished so much in my short absence from your side, Will?” Hannibal’s expression was changeless. “Or is there something you aren’t telling me? Is there someone else?”

“There’s nothing,” Will whispered and he knew there really was nothing. Nothing here, nothing there. The endless nothing that left them stranded here now.

“Will, you have understood me since the first time that we met. What has changed now?” Hannibal was curious now, peeking into Will’s shifting gaze.

“You’ve changed.” Will whispered, vocal tones straining at the slightly awkward angle that Hannibal gripped him.

No. You are refusing to see it.” Hannibal sighed. “I say again, the safety you seek is not within the confines of the city, Will. We can be so much more without that wall surrounding us.” Hannibal moved, gently now, crossing a leg beneath Will and resting his head upon his shoulder. As he nuzzled into Will’s hair, will remembered the soft comforts of home, and the arid noises of the city the last time they were so alone. So close. Now these memories were only thus, leaving merely the taste of salt and sand against his lips. “Would you rather lean on a future doomed to repetition and endless meaningless conversation?” Will tittered wryly.

“Did you save me out of love, or did you not wish to be alone?” Will mumbled against Hannibal’s shoulder.

“I was alone until I met you, Will,” Hannibal replied with a soft tone and Will accepted it. That answer was undeniable from the person who spoke it.

“Then we cast our oodles to a vagabond lot, in a world of beggars and thieves.” Will traced the jagged wound that was ruby red from his fall to the earth. “How then, shall we make our way in this..?”

“The destination is within, I think,” Hannibal helped Will back to his feet at his non-verbal request. “I only wished we come to truce before we make our own path forward.”

“To our truce, then.” Will sighed and watched the waves crash closer to his toes as the sun begin to dip beyond the horizon. “May it comfort us as we escape this wretched place.”

“A compromise that is well in order, this time.”

“This time.” Will repeated, carefully. How many more would be have to adapt to, to trade in his freedom’s for the whimsy of his lover? His nerves were shot as is, anymore surprises and he might just punch the man in his well-formed jaw. Perfect sunset or not.

“We will re-build the world on our own.” Hannibal drifted his fingertips underneath Will’s chin and brushed his lips into his hair again. He remaining indifferent to Will’s annoyance. “Whatever you wish it to be.”

“How far do you plan to go, Hannibal? Your valor is known all over these lands, your face is not less so.” Will felt a shift in the air, as Hannibal spoke. A wistful curiosity raised in him. “If they find you alive…”

“We will go beyond the narrows that lead to the west. There is another place there we can find more of your comforts. A people more versed in living then in dwelling in the fires of combat.”

“How long have you been planning this? You seem far too versed in these consequences.” Will narrowed his eyes up at Hannibal.

“It is the reason that I aimed to conquer these lands, Will. The best way to learn of the plots around us, to adapt. The valor was not my intent.”

“The land past the narrows? Are we to use that dingy we moored?”

“No, I have no intention of using that boat again. Only waiting on the proper vessel to rescue us.” Hannibal let the idea simmer in Will’s mind, then he traced the idea back to a moment before. “Do not think me unaware of the merchant tongues and trade, just because I have been at sea more than at the docks with you.” This confirmed it in Will’s mind.

“Pirates…and smugglers.” Will repeated the idea had begun to dawn on him that Hannibal’s crew had gone far beyond what a typical waring vessel would usually endeavor.

“Yes, Will. Pirates and smugglers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready to ramp up into part two. Thank you for sticking by so far!

**Author's Note:**

> I am going for a historically accurate story to a degree. A little dash of fun-fiction never hurt anyone.


End file.
